


Kinda Hot

by Pisslux



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, Desperation, M/M, Omorashi, Semi-Public Sex, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 16:29:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9333434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pisslux/pseuds/Pisslux
Summary: You kind of hate yourself for feeling like this because he’s an annoying douche who doesn’t know how to stop talking, but you probably hate yourself even more for hanging off his every word like every weird vaguely sexual soliloquy he mumbles to nobody in particular extends your lifespan by a year or two.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is kinda bordering on watersports territory but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

It’s not like you like him or anything.

Except that, well, you do. Like him, that is. You kind of hate yourself for feeling like this because he’s an annoying douche who doesn’t know how to stop talking, but you probably hate yourself even more for hanging off his every word like every weird vaguely sexual soliloquy he mumbles to nobody in particular extends your lifespan by a year or two.

You’re stuck in a car with Dave, the two of you off to go visit Karkat, and you’re so stupidly uncomfortable that your horns haven’t stopped sparking since you buckled up. You blamed it on excess psionic output when he asked; you lisped so hard on ‘excess’ that you grimaced, and when he asked about _that_ you feigned a headache. That last part wasn’t exactly a lie.

The two of you live pretty close to each other but were about a half hour’s drive away from KK, and flying with a headache was a guarantee that it would morph into a monster of a migraine. You’d end up snapping at the two of them to leave you the hell alone the entire duration of your stay at his hive as you hide away in the nearest dark room. As such, it would be inadvisable to say no to Dave when he offered to drive you, and maybe you just wanted an excuse to be near him, nervousness be damned.

You were kind of regretting that now though, the smalltalk between you two coming out rather strained on your part due to frazzled nerves. You take a deep breath to calm down, get the motes of red and blue haloing your horns to dissipate, then fiddle with the radio while making a suggestion: “So how do you feel about stopping off at a gas station and getting a slurpee or some shit?”

“Yeah sure, that’s chill.”

Dave remains as impassive as ever, avoiding the exit needed to enter the highway and looping around to head towards a 7-11 he sometimes frequents.

He parks the car near the side of the gas station, and the two of you hop out and enter through one of those jingling glass doors covered in signs and stickers to scout out some snacks. You should probably use this opportunity to take a bathroom break, you haven’t gone since you woke up, but you’re a little preoccupied with ogling Dave’s butt when you think he can’t see you looking. You kind of want to flirt with him. You _really_ want to touch said butt.

You notice he’s wandered off to browse the store’s drink selection and stroll over to his side.

Hell yes, they have like every flavor of Mountain Dew. One of each ends up in your arms as well as the addition of two or three Redbulls. You’re kind of hoping maybe KK will be up for some late-night makeouts and you need something to keep you awake. Dave is free to join, of course. God, you hope he joins.

Back to the issue at hand, you tactfully rest your bony fingers on Dave’s shoulder, acting as if you’re still peering inside the drink coolers for any last-minute selections and using him to balance yourself and your armful of liquid treasure before backing away. You let your hand linger a second too long before sliding it off, advancing towards the slurpee machine and not looking back.

Dave just sort of stands there with the door to one of the the drink fridges open and glances down at his shoulder before looking back at you. You’re peering at him out of the corner of your eye, trying to look rather invested in whether or not you want a red slurpee or a blue one. You watch him select a bottle of apple juice and shut the door before deciding on filling a cup with alternating layers of red and blue slush.

Doritos end up making their way into your stockpile of snacks while Dave has his aj and some Fig Newtons, and both of you get in line to check out.

He puts his stuff on the counter and you elbow him out of the way, dumping your load on the counter before it all falls to the floor.

“I got this man,” you announce, and you watch Dave’s eyebrows raise over the top of his shades before he shrugs and steps off to the side.

“Thanks bro.”

“Yeah.”  Your horns start sparking again and you think perhaps that was a little too forward.

Maybe if you buy him food he’ll like you more. People buying you food always puts them in your favor.

You buy the snacks and the two of you exit the 7-11 and hop back into Dave’s beat-up car. Part of you is thankful for the ridiculously tinted windows; you’re not exactly a fan of having strangers watch you chug Mountain Dew, even if they only see you for a split second due to, well, driving on the highway.

Back on the road again you turn the radio up and stash Dave’s snacks in the median while you pile yours between your feet. The slurpee is the first to be consumed and you deeply regret mixing cherry with blue raspberry.

“You got a fuckton of drinks bro,” Dave comments nonchalantly over the music.

“I got a fuckton of thirst.”

“Yeah I get that, sometimes you just gotta curb that rude thirst and give it a wicked thrashing to get it under control. That’s why I always got a bottle of good ol’ aj on hand-“ he pauses to affectionately pat his juice, “-you never know when you’re gonna be parched as hell and need to chug some of that good shit.” He’s starting to ramble and you let him, just enjoying the sound of his voice while you kind of blatantly stare at him.

The bag of Doritos is the first thing to be mercilessly savaged by your gross twiggy fingers, a handful immediately being shoved into your craterous maw as Dave merges onto the highway. The seats of his car are pleather and you thank whatever gods that may be out there because you may or may not be getting neon orange crumbs all over his seats. Your original flavor of Mountain Dew goes next, downing it after you finish with your chips.

The trip continues on in that fashion: you guys eating various edibles, (You share your chips with Dave and make a point to “accidentally” brush your hands together,) him rapping or talking about whatever dumb thing comes to his mind while you play on your phone and listen to him.

It’s not until the car noticeably slows down do you look up at the road.

“What the fuck, why are we stopping?”

“Traffic jam, there’s probably an accident up ahead or something. Kinda sucks because the lanes merge not too far ahead and it’s just gonna make the wait even longer.” He sighs and relaxes into his seat, running a hand through his hair. “We probably got a while.”

Fuck, you wish you could run your hand through his hair. It looks so soft.

Dave whips out his phone to presumably text Karkat that you guys are going to be late, and you offer him more of your chips when he slips his phone back into his pocket. (You got the big bag.)

Neither of you are really hungry, just bored, really. You used your psionics to float a couple of Doritos into your mouth since you’re the most lazy sack of shit in town but you’re nothing if not stubborn, and you dipped your hand back in the bag to see if you could maybe pass off a couple more brushes of hands as accidents.

What surprises you is that he starts doing it back, trying to get your attention without being too obvious. Some of his fingers twine together with yours for only a fraction of a second and you can feel the tips of your ears burning-

But then he’s yanking his hand out, cursing under his breath as someone behind him honks to let him know to drive ahead. He hadn’t been paying attention to traffic as it inched by slowly and the fact maybe makes you a little giddy. He was more preoccupied with you than driving, hell yes, you’re getting somewhere.

Dave closes the distance between him and the car ahead of him before breaking again and licking the Dorito dust off his fingers. You can’t help but stare and wish you could be the one to lick it off. You gnaw on your lips with mangled fangs and distract yourself with chugging another bottle of Mountain Dew (Code Red, this time,)your horns resuming their sparking. (You want to lick more than just his fingers.) You get your psionics under control, the sparking becoming repetitive and annoying and an obvious tip-off to your unease. 

The chips didn’t last as long as you’d hoped and you note with a twinge of despondency that there’s no longer a way to feign innocence if your hands happen to brush again.

A sigh, and your next Dew (Voltage) is cracked open.

Dave inches along at a snail’s pace and the boredom is making you insane. He offers you some of his Fig Newtons which you decline, tummy rather full with how much you’ve been drinking.

You note with a sense of urgency that you forgot to go to the bathroom at the 7-11 and that you could really go for a piss right about now. Fuck. You adjust yourself in the seat, pleather squeaking as you slide around and you do your best to think of other things. Talking to Dave is an other thing. You do the other thing.

“So, any plans once we get to KK’s?”

Dave turns to look at you and smirks. “Was kinda thinking we could grab a bite to eat, maybe play some video games? You know, classic bro stuff. Unless you and Karkat were planning on making out in a closet somewhere and leaving me to entertain myself all alone because Karkat is an abhorrent host.”

Uh.

You cough into your fist, wincing as the motion jostles your lower abdomen. Dave notices.

“Sollux you ok dude?”

You want to ignore his question in favor of addressing his other statement because what the fuck, but you’re rather grateful for the subject change, considering that could lead into some very awkward territory.

All of you guys kinda have… things with each other, in some roundabout way and you’re all very aware of it, barring your infatuation with Dave. Him and Karkat like to make out and you and Karkat also like to make out, but Dave and you aren’t a thing. You didn’t think he had any interest in you, and if he did before this car trip the asshole never showed it. Bottling up your feelings about your Secret Shameful Crush seemed like the right response to that particular brand of unrequited pining.

“Yeah I’m fine I just gotta piss, I haven’t gone all day.”

“You could always pee into your empty Dew bottles, fuck knows you downed like three or four of those suckers.”

You grimace at that. Gross.

“Dave what the fuck, that’s disgusting. I may be gross and lazy but I’m not _that_ much of a filthy degenerate.”

“Ok well it’s either that or you pop a squat on the side of the highway or piss yourself I guess. Just trying to be helpful.”

If there was ever a worse suggestion than peeing into bottles in front of the dude you want to mack on it’s taking a leak in front of a bunch of strangers while stalled on the highway. You’re not even lucky enough to be stuck on the actual ground where you could run off into the forest to play bigfoot while you look for a secluded spot to do your business like some kind of bear, you’re smack dab in the middle of a bridge and if you decide to go Dave’s route and piss against the concrete barrier you’ll have hundreds of eyes on your Troll Junk, which frankly, you’re not too keen about. You have at least _some_ semblance of dignity.

A frustrated sigh escapes you and you drag a hand down your face.

“Your options suck. _You_ suck. I’ll just hold it until we get to KK’s place; I’m a fully-pupated troll I think I can handle it.”

“Alright dude, if you say so. Just know we’ve probably got one hell of a wait.”

“Thanks for your support, it means so much to me,” you say blandly. The corner of Dave’s mouth quirks up and you know he’s just messing with you. You’re a smidge thankful for the distraction.

Not much changes in the next half hour to forty-five minutes; you lost track of time after a while. Dave inches forward when the other cars do and he talks to you and you sometimes say something back if he isn’t busy devolving into talking to himself again, and at one point he challenged you to a rap-off. You were thoroughly brutalized and stomped on and Dave couldn’t help but laugh at you at one point when you tripped over your own teeth and fumbled with a verse. You felt your cheeks heat up and you swear you saw some color on his cheeks as well.

The moment was ruined when your bladder gave an aching throb and you crossed your legs and shifted in the seat to try and take some pressure off of it. It didn’t help much and of course Dave had to comment on your discomfort.

“Seriously man if you have to go that bad just take a leak outside, I’m sure you’re not the first to do that.”

“Dave do me a monumental solid and shut the fuck up,” You growl out while recrossing your legs. Breathe in, breathe out. You can make it, you’re probably close enough to the accident or whatever the hell is holding everything up that the car will start moving again soon. You’re sparking again, but this time it’s due to stress instead of nerves. You want to smash your head in on the dash.

You smash your head in on the dash. A steady _thunk, thunk_ until Dave physically reaches over and pushes you back and admonishes you for it. You can’t help but lay your head back against the seat and squeeze out a pitiful groan.

And speaking of squeezing, you’ve gotten to the point where you’ve been clenching your thighs together for so long that they’re starting to ache. _Fuck._ You relax and rub your temples. _Why_ did you have to drink so much? It’s just getting worse and worse as the minutes tick by, slow and agonizing, and your bladder won’t stop _aching._

You section off some of your rapidly dwindling brain power to think about how suddenly it hit you; it was more controllable not too long ago, you could push it to the back of your mind and think about other things but now the steady ache in your abdomen is the only thing you can currently focus on.

It’s hard not to squirm in your seat; you give up and squirm anyways, shuffling and trying to banish the mounting pressure in your gut. You’re sure you have a visible bump by now, if you gently touch where your bladder is you swear you can feel it protruding slightly. You press a little too hard and whimper, crush your thighs together again and bite at your lip with your ghastly oversized fangs. You’re basically holding your midsection, rocking a little and grunting to try and keep yourself from pissing in Dave’s car.

You’re shallowly panting at this point, one of your feet bouncing up and down rapidly as you struggle to keep control over your straining, overfilled bladder. You’re so full your bulges have started to unsheath. You know you’re in deep shit when your bulges have nowhere to go and now you have _two_ problems instead of just one and you can’t help but curse. It hurts so bad it almost feels good and you squeeze at your crotch to keep from leaking. You keep your legs clamped shut around your hand and you’re so embarrassed; you’re two minutes away from pissing your pants next to Dave and you’re unsheathed and he probably wouldn’t understand _why_ and Jesus fuck you’re so screwed. Dave is gonna look over and see the lump in your pants and he’s gonna think you’re a perverted freak getting off in his car next to him and you look up to assess the traffic situation to see that you’ve not even made it to the end of the bridge yet and you can’t help but whine. You look over to Dave, you want to apologize in case you really _do_ piss yourself.

“Dave, listen-“ You freeze, brow furrowed, lip once again caught between your teeth. Dave is hunched up in his seat, squished up due to the steering wheel and pointedly trying not to stare as he bites down on his knuckle. He looks worried? Oh God you fucked up, you fucked up.

“Dave,” you try again. You sound so pitifully desperate, like you’re seconds away from crying. He looks over at you and it’s hard to tell what he’s thinking with those obnoxious shades on his face but you can see the rise and fall of his chest and the color on his cheeks and holy shit is he _into_ this?

“Sollux, I-“ You cut him off.

“Are you fucking getting off on me about to wet my goddamn pants in your car? Dave holy _shit_.”

He looks away and that’s all the confirmation you need.

“Ok, well, I can’t really stop you from doing that, but I’m legitimately about to pee myself and I don’t think I’d be able to make it outside and-“

Dave shivers in his seat at that and you can just barely see his hand hidden between his bunched up legs and holy fucking shit he totally _is_ getting off to this.

He speaks again, nervousness apparent in his voice as he refuses to look at you.

“This is kind of hot and I feel fucking gross but if you do end up pissing yourself I’m- I, I won’t be mad, ok. Excuse me for being blunt but if we’re gonna be stuck here for fuck knows how long we might as well make the best out of this situation and if you wanted to maybe mack on me right now I wouldn’t say no.”

You bark out a laugh; not cruel, more self-deprecating and near hysterical than anything because Dave wants to kiss you and it’s because you’re desperate and full of piss and this isn’t the kind of think you thought he’d- you’d? Be into, but here you are. You immediately regret making a sound as a small spurt of piss makes its way past your clenched thighs and you double down and squeeze for dear life, gasping at the warmth.

Dave is outright staring with zero restraint; you can see the bulge in his pants and if he wants to see you wet yourself he’s about to get the show of a lifetime.

“F-fuck it, why not?”

He surprises you by suddenly reaching forward and bunching some of your shirt in his hand and yanking you a little towards him; you yelp in shock and you’re so dizzy with desperation and plain out of your goddamn pan that you grab at him and kiss him first.

He melts into it and tries to get closer to you but the median between the seats prevents him from doing more than fisting gratuitous handfuls of your shirt with both hands and trying to pull you over it and onto him. It goes about as well as you’d expected, aka it doesn’t get much done except get your rib to jut into the median uncomfortably.

You rearrange yourself, putting as much pressure as you can on your crotch to hold back the inevitable flood because right now the more important thing is kissing Dave. You run your free hand through his hair (it’s as soft as you thought it would be,) and your other is still between your legs.

Kissing diverts your attention enough that, while you still feel full to bursting, it’s not at the forefront of your pan and you can shove it aside for the time being. You’re going to regret it, but you’ve been wanting to kiss this asshole for God knows how long and you’re not about to let some stupid bodily functions get in the way of that.

Speaking of Dave, he’s let go of your shirt to slide his hands up to your shoulders, one going for the nape of your neck to play with your hair.

It kind of tickles, and you shiver. You feel him smile against your mouth.

Now is literally the _worst_ time for his snark, so you keep him silent by tilting your head more and kissing him deeper, your glasses clacking against his shades as a result. It irks you and you growl into his mouth which ends up dragging a low groan out of him.

That’s hot as hell.

You’re kind of shaky from the excitement of kissing and you only just now notice that your horns have started up their sparking again. When Dave reaches a hand up and tentatively rests it on one of your bigger, outer horns you will your psionics to give it a rest. You think he’s unsure if touching your horns is allowed so you push into his hand; he kind of squeezes your horn lightly for some odd reason before rubbing at the base of the horn where it’s the most orangey-red.

His efforts earn him a hum of approval and he keeps at it for a few seconds before getting distracted by you swiping your tongue over his lower lip. It probably feels weird due to the split tip but if it bothers him he gets over it pretty quickly, his mouth opening for you for ultimate sloppy makeouts.

Both of you sort of paw at each other, lips sliding together in a frankly kind of gross way before you yank yourself away from Dave’s warm mouth to curl in on yourself and hiss.

Your bladder has insisted you pay attention to it again if the throbbing, stabbing pains are any indication, and you warn Dave again.

“Listen, makeouts are great and all but I’m legitimately two seconds away from pi-“

“Take your pants off and get in the backseat, _fuck_ ,” Dave interrupts, his hands already working at the button on his own jeans.

“I— what?” That throws you for a loop.

“I want you to fucking piss on me and showing up to Karkat’s place with wet jeans won’t exactly go over well, so take them off and get in the goddamn back of the car."

“Holy _shit,_ ” you breathe. Your eyes are kind of bugging out right now and you had no idea Dave would be so bluntly _into_ this.

You obey, however, fumbling with the button and zipper on your pants and squirming out of them as best you can while still clenching your legs shut. It’s an arduous, torturous process and you may have leaked a little but you eventually free yourself of your jeans and shoes and look back to see that Dave is already in the backseat, waiting.

What the fuck, you didn’t even see him move.

Whatever. You do your best to scramble back there without unleashing a premature unholy flood comprised solely of urine and it takes a monumental amount of effort. You have to stop every couple of seconds to grope yourself and suck in a breath, squeeze your trembling thighs together as a few more drops escape. You whine.

Not yet, not yet. Just a little while longer.

What feels like ten years later, you’re finally in the seat next to Dave, and you can’t help but stare at the wicked stiffy he’s sporting. You don’t get to linger on it because suddenly he’s grabbing at you, trying to manhandle you into getting onto his lap.

Both of you still have boxers on so getting an eyeful of the goods will have to wait, but you’re pretty confident in assuming that clothes won’t stay on for long if this is heading in the direction you’re hoping it’s going.

As you maneuver yourself onto Dave, it pains you to have to open your legs so you can straddle him properly. You’re shaking with the effort to hold it all in and you can’t last much longer, your bladder is straining and you choke on a sob as some escapes as try to snap your legs together again, only succeeding in pinning your knees against Dave’s hips.

He’s got his hands on you, petting and kneading at your sides as he licks his lips and unabashedly stares at the growing wet spot between your legs. Both of your faces are on fire and you feel a twinge of embarrassment for even letting yourself get to this point but _Dave likes it._ He’s eyeing you so hungrily and you don’t even need to see past his dumb shades to tell.

Fuck.

You’re panting, hands on his shoulders as you try to calm yourself down and stop shaking. His hands leave your sides and he grabs at your butt, pulling you flush against him so you can feel his dick and your bulges jump to attention, trying to wrap around it even through the fabric of your boxers.

Both of you shiver and you can’t help but hide your face in the crook of Dave’s neck as you grind up against him. His chest is so warm against yours; you can feel his heat through your shirt and you want to touch him all over but you’re so focused on bracing yourself against his shoulders and trying not to come undone that you’re making small pained noises against his soft skin, breath coming out in ragged puffs as you struggle not to piss yourself.

Dave sighs, the hands on your butt encouraging you to move a little more, move a little faster. It feels good, you want more, but you can’t have more while also successfully holding it in and you tell him, you beg him to let you go.

“Dave, fuck, please, I can’t, I _need_ —“

He shooshes you.

“Just a little longer, you can hold it. Just another minute.” He pauses to stick a thumb in the hem of your boxers and pulls them down an inch or so. “You wanna…?”

“ _Yes_ , yes, fuck yes _please_ ,” you blubber into his neck.

You lift yourself up and he helps you get your boxers off. The cold air makes your bulges try to hide under your shirt and if you weren’t so desperate to release you might have laughed.

Dave curses to himself, obviously mesmerized at your junk as he lets one tentacle twine around a finger.

You’re so wet, and not just from the piss. Your nook is sopping, there’s yellow already dribbling down your thighs and you’re so desperate, you’re so needy, you can’t wait.

“Dave, please, please,” you plead. You’re seconds away from crying, it hurts so bad.

He takes mercy on you finally and pulls the waistband of his boxers down to expose his dick, and he helps guide you down onto him. He takes it slow and you can’t tell if he’s doing it on purpose or because he doesn’t want to hurt you but either way it’s tortuous and you can’t bear to wait any longer. You drop down on him and both of you gasp simultaneously, your hands practically convulsing on his shoulders.

Your nook clenches around him and your bladder pulses in dire urgency. You can’t hold it anymore, it _hurts_ and you can’t stop leaking, you can barely even warn him one last time. He pulls you close against him again and the pressure is too much, it’s too much—

“C’mon, you can let go now, it’s ok,” Dave whispers.

You cry as you finally let go, hot piss rushing out of you and pouring over your laps. It soaks Dave’s boxers and puddles under him on his pleather seat, and you’re shuddering with how good it feels to finally, _finally_ let go.  

Dave’s breath is coming out in ragged bursts as he grinds up into you as you piss yourself on his lap with his dick in your nook and you go boneless against him. It’s still coming out of you and it’s impossible to hold back the moan of pure bliss as Dave presses against the bump in your abdomen to help you out a little.

Once you’ve finished emptying, you’re left slumped against Dave as you try to regain your composure. You feel so much better now, you dare to think you haven’t felt this good in a long time.

“That was kinda hot,” you mumble against Dave.

“Yeah, I know.”

The car is probably going to always faintly smell of urine after this but you’re not sure if Dave cares.

You’re not done yet though; you wiggle on Dave’s cock, hoping he gets the message that _yes, please, you’d still like to be thoroughly fucked in the backseat of his car while stuck on the highway._

He gets it of course and urges you to ride him, which you enthusiastically comply with. It’s leisurely at first, the cooling pee is maybe getting kinda gross and sticky but after ignoring it you really start to pick up the pace.

Human dicks feel so weird compared to troll ones but it’s not an unwelcome kind of weird. Just different. And it’s Dave so you really don’t give a bifurcated fuck.

He’s gripping your bony hips, helping you lift yourself up so you can drop back down on him like you actually need help to fuck yourself on him. Maybe he just wants to feel included. Either way, you’re grunting in satisfaction and you purr for him when he shoves a hand between your bodies to grope at your bulges. They eagerly wrap around his hand and squeeze at him and he does his best to give you a couple firm strokes.

It makes you see stars and the doubled attention to your bulges and nook has pleasure racing up your spine and you buck into his hand. He’s so _warm_.

The car behind Dave’s honks and you push him back into the seat when he makes to get up.

“I got it. Psionics, remember?”

Red and blue energy envelops the car and lurches it forward to close the gap. Some pee that has collected on the seat runs off and drips onto the floor. It makes the two of you giggle.

“Gross.”

“You’re the one who pissed himself.”

You bite him on the neck for that.

Not too hard of course, but it gets him to make a startled noise then proffer his neck to you and you nibble your way up, placing some open-mouthed kisses along the way before taking his jaw in your hands and smooching him again.

You disengage after a minute of sloppy makeouts and he whines, chasing after your lips.

“I want to lay down, take your boxers off they’re getting cold.”

Dave nods, and you get off of him and maneuver yourself to lay down on the seat _not_ covered in pee. It’s uncomfortable for your neck and it’s gonna protest loudly at you come tomorrow but you’re more engrossed in watching Dave take his clothes off than making it so you don’t have a stiff neck.

Once his attention is on you again you open your legs for him and you thought he couldn’t get any redder in the face but here he is, getting redder in the face. You, on the other hand, have zero shame.

He’s got a nice cock and you smirk to yourself when you see the yellow sheen on it. He knows you’re staring and you know _he’s_ staring and you wonder if he’s ever actually been up close and personal with troll genitals before this.

“You gonna fuck me sometime this perigee or what, dude?”

“I- yeah, sorry.”

You laugh at him, not _totally_ unkind. He acts like he wasn’t just buried in you mere seconds ago and it’s sort of cute. He’s so pitiful.

He scoots up to you and grabs your thighs, hiking you up and sliding back inside you. You’re still very slippery and he goes in easily; both of you groan in tandem and Dave wastes no time in getting right back to work, fucking you into the seat of the car.

It’s only minutes before you’re trembling, panting and gasping and chirping under Dave as he thrusts in and out of you. You can barely make out what he’s been mumbling to himself over the past minute or two and it kind of sounds like awkward dirty talk, like he’s too nervous to speak up, but you don’t have the brainpower to laugh at him for it because he’s hilted himself in you again and you want to _scream._ You can make fun of him later while getting him to fondle your horns more.

“H-hey,” Dave gasps out. “I’m getting real close, is- is it ok if I cum in you or how does that work for you guys?”

“Dude I don’t— nnngh, I don’t give a fuck, I literally pissed in your lap do you think I care if you shoot your load in me?”

That makes him shiver, but he nods to let you know he understands and starts thrusting harder. He’s getting sloppy and uncoordinated and each of your gasps are punctuated by a weak moan and it’s getting harder to keep your horns from scratching up the car door or puncturing the seats.

“C’mon, c’mon, keep doing that I’m right there, fuck, go faster, _fuck,_ ” you gasp out. You’re arching off the seat and practically quaking, thighs twitching around Dave and toes curling as he relentless fucks you like you demanded and you finally come, breathless and slack-jawed and shaking life a leaf as he fucks you through your orgasm.

He follows quickly, bucking into you two, three more times, groaning before finally spilling in you. You can feel his cock twitch in your nook and you clamp down on him, milk him for all he’s worth and it’s hard to describe the garbled noise he makes but you figure he’s having a good time.

You’re glad he didn’t take longer to finish because holy hell are you overstimulated to Alternia and back. The two of you sort of sit there and pant for a bit, catching your breath before he pulls out. You maybe accidentally trill and it gets him to smile. You sit up and push him away to assess the situation.

The car is a hot mess and you’re sticky with piss and fluids and God damn it you got your own slurry all over yourself and there’s probably nothing to clean up with. Dave, seemingly having read your mind, tosses you your boxers. You shrug and wipe yourself down with them as best you can and toss them on the ground with his own pair.

Cleaning up more thoroughly might have to wait until KK’s.

There’s a beat of silence.

“So,” Dave starts.

“So.”

“Threesome at Karkat’s place?”

“Oh _fuck_ yes,” you agree.

After you’re both cleaned up as best as possible and pants have been put back on you crawl back into the front seat. Traffic continues to suck and you may or may not have given each other a handy after some indiscriminate amount of time due to complete and utter boredom. Plus Dave is cute and you like touching him.

It’s another twenty minutes until Dave is finally able to escape traffic and you thank the heavens. The rest of the trip goes smoothly and you end up just letting you and Dave into Karkat’s hive with no warning because you’ve done enough waiting for one lifetime thank you very much.

Karkat comes stomping out, having presumably heard the door, and you take it he can smell the piss still lingering on the two of you because the first thing he says (yells) is: “DAVE YOU GOT HIM TO FUCKING PISS ON YOU, DIDN’T YOU?”

You laugh.

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
